


A Splendid Russian Boarhound

by Katherine



Category: A Little Princess - Frances Hodgson Burnett
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-09
Updated: 2019-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-13 01:43:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20574395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katherine/pseuds/Katherine
Summary: Tom Carrisford gave Mr. Carmichael the task of finding a boarhound. "Not, I think, a puppy," Carrisford said decidedly. "A dog grown and already trained."





	A Splendid Russian Boarhound

Tom Carrisford gave Mr. Carmichael the task of finding a boarhound. "Not, I think, a puppy," Carrisford said decidedly. "A dog grown and already trained." He frowned a little in thought, before allowing that Carmichael might take along one or two of his eldest children, if he was certain they would behave and keep the secret from Sara. The dog would have to be one that behaved perfectly with children, of course. That could be a test of suitability.

"You are to choose a male boarhound for Sara," he told Carmichael further. "That is most suitable for one to guard her."

But Carrisford himself made the order for the collar. That he did by letter, for though his troubles were infinitely lightened by Sara's presence he was not yet well enough to go about on such tasks. Nor did he wish to spend his time away from Sara. Still, it was a good piece of business to send out to a noted goldsmith, and that was the words and the dog's name chosen.

He brooded over the collar once it was delivered to him, turning it in his hands to watch the play of candlelight on the words he had ordered inscribed on the bright metal.

Sara might have no need to be guarded, but Carrisford remembered nights in India, his hand cramping around a bag of diamonds he did not dare let go of, no place safe or hidden enough. He could have done with a guard, at such times.

There had been too many overly long nights there, turning himself over and over in his cot, equal parts restless and weakened. Oversensitised by fever, he had started at every small noise from outside. In the morning, more calm, he might have quieted himself. Remembered the sigh that was a breath of wind, not in truth a predator; or the sharp sound that was not a step but only a small branch snapping. But in the night all such noises were intrusive and frightening.

*

The dog was, indeed, clearly well-trained. He sat on his haunches, his tail essaying a flicking wag, while Carrisford fastened the collar then slightly but precisely adjusted where it rested. The words were as he had ordered: _I am Boris. I serve the Princess Sara._

Sara should have been served all her life, and never had to drudge for anyone. Carrisford would ensure that she would never in her life need to do so again.


End file.
